Cocooned
by GrimmKitten
Summary: Sequel to Poisoned Butterflies. Karkat and John are nearly out of high school, But their bromance finds Karkat reacting to John's close proximity in entirely new ways. Hilarity ensues due to both's cluelessness. Karkat/John


**Title: Cocooned**

**Rating: M (For mature language and future, and I don't know exactly when, but probably in the far future, seximness between two sexable young men)**

**Summary: Karkat and John are nearly all grown up, and things start getting weird between them when the closeness of bromance becomes too much~**

**Disclaimer: I do not own these character's names or anything, I just stuck them on two poor chaps living out this hell I created for them ^-^ They belong to Hussie and I get nothing but intense gratification and satisfaction for making them do what I want.  
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><p>An irritatingly familiar ringing penetrated Karkat's common gloomy thoughts and pulled his attention away from the thick tomb of dark reading (Ha. Who called a sappy romantic comedy "dark"?) that he had immersed himself in for the past hour, his elbows sinking into the soft mattress of his bed. Karkat looked up past the single lamp attached to his headboard which was illuminating his book and glanced at his glowing clock perched on the bedside table next to his horn headband and headache medicine. The continuous red glow of the analogue clock told him it was twelve o'clock. Again.<p>

Of course "again", it happened every day. The sun would supposedly reach its peak and beam the inhabitants of this poor world with devastating rays of heat and radiation that would eventually make them all crinkle up and die, people would partake of a meal that would make them sleepy and they would inevitably fall asleep while driving home, killing many "innocents" and causing havoc, and like usual, his neighbor would arrive to disrupt his carefully planned schedule and generally do his best to make as large a nuisance of himself as possible. Again.

Not that this particularly troubled Karkat anymore. No, it had become a comfortable respite from his normally desolate abode. Karkat found himself waiting more eagerly every day for the ringing of his doorbell to begin and for the cheerfully optimistic yells and hollers to drift up to his window from around the front of the house. More or less, he deeply enjoyed the visits. Not that he would be telling John that any time soon. John would be irritatingly ecstatic that he had penetrated Karkat's depressing shell and bug the hell out of him with sappy remarks and sickly sweet "friendship hugs" that would end up squeezing his precious life blood out of his ears and cause him to experience an early death.

Karkat considered his last thought for a moment, snapping the book shut on a sturdy, yet worn cardboard bookmark and turning over to slip his legs off the bed, the doorbell persistently ringing in the background. With careful reconsideration on this thought, hugs from John actually didn't sound like all that bad of an idea at the moment. One could always use a good hug now and then. Karkat pulled himself up off the bed, absentmindedly tugging his sagging gray sweatpants up over the top of his boxers with one hand as he placed his trusty horns on his short mess of disheveled black hair with the other, heading towards the door to his room.

Karkat slowly descended the stairs from the hallway leading to his room, brushing off his favorite black cancer-sign printed shirt that hung loose on his thin frame and enjoying the pattern the ringing was following. John was zoning out probably, focusing on the doorbell completely. Branching off the thoughts of John, he reconnected with the chain he had left in his room. Enjoying John's hugs indeed. Well, it wasn't a relatively new revelation at this point. He'd begun enjoying them with increasing intensity since his second to last birthday when he'd turned 16. John had apparently arranged a surprise party in his honor, inviting everyone that shared their classes at the local high school, including the neighbors, and managing to reveal everything to Karkat in the process. Turns out John was the only one "brave" enough to show up to the birthday party of the legendary community ruffian/serial-killer/evil hobgoblin gangster. The title's of course were fake, mere fantasies dreamed up about the strange horned pale boy who nearly never left his dark, creepy house, and when he did he always glared and yelled at people.

When it turned out no one was coming, which became apparent after the first 15 minutes of John and Karkat standing alone in his dark and gloomy living room, John was devastated. John had personally invited every single one of them, and they hadn't shown up. After wallowing in shock and whatever else John usually felt when something didn't turn out the way he wanted, he noticed Karkat standing off to the side staring dismally at the candles as they oozed colorful wax on to his cake, and realized that Karkat must be feeling a hundred billion times worse.

This wasn't true of course, Karkat was perfectly content with the fact that none of his moronic classmates or neighbors had intruded upon his home, but before Karkat had a chance to make that point clear to his slightly delusional friend, John had rushed over and crushed him in an embrace that lasted several minutes and made Karkat feel slightly awkward. He was usually prepared for the bone-crushing bear hugs and the flying tackles, but this hug, this teary-eyed, supposed-to-be-comforting, quite more intimate and emotional hug in the middle of a dark room lit only by candle light, sent tingling shivers down his spine and stirred the fluffy metaphorical cotton-candy now spinning in his stomach.

Since then, all of John's hugs had extracted the same feelings from him. At first, this fact had freaked Karkat out. Intimacy - no, just being physically _near_ someone was highly unusual for him, and he was certainly not used to anything other than the rather rough treatment of John's explosive tackles and general rough-housing. This new, tingly, warm feeling was foreign, confusing, and the inevitable red flush, humiliating.

Karkat therefore had no idea what to do about any of his feelings, abundance or lack thereof, and so decided to let them be. This feeling, whatever it was or turned out to be, did him no physical harm at the moment and was actually pretty nice, so why not enjoy it while it lasted?

Karkat smoothly glided down the rest of the steps, his cat silently falling into step behind him as he approached the thick wooden front door. Karkat pulled the door open to greet his visitor, but the ringing of the doorbell continued to echo through his house. Karkat tucked the side of the door into his slightly muscular shoulder (you can't really be fit if you don't really leave your house to do anything), his hand still lightly holding the knob, and stared with a slight smirk on his face as he observed his strange best friend.

John had retained most of his wildly childish charm even though he was almost out of high school. He had given up the floppy blue sock-hat, which now hung out his window to catch the wind, in favor of a soft blue hoodie with a milky white tie-dye pattern that started at the center of his semi-muscular chest (John actually _did_ things that could be constituted as "working out"). He had gained a pair of glasses that sat perched on his button nose and his khaki's had transformed into a pair of loose-fitting jeans with worn out knees and mysteriously appearing tears and holes. His hair was as unkempt as usual, the black locks flung every which way and were long enough now to tickle the nap of his neck. The one thing that hadn't really changed was his insistence on wearing outrageous shoes. Though he had given up the galoshes, he had replaced them with a pair of rainbow-colored converse covered in scribbles from classroom boredom.

John was currently hunched over, concentrating on pressing the doorbell as fast as humanely possible. Both of his hands were raised to the button with his face contorted in determination and his little pink tongue barely sticking out from under his adorable bucked teeth.

Karkat watched for a few more moments before mock-coughing into his unoccupied fist to try and catch John's attention. As usual, it didn't work, so he sighed and closed the door to prepare himself for the next few minutes. After waiting a few moments to compose himself, he threw open the door with a slam that made John jump and yelled quite enthusiastically, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT YOU STUPID SQUID'S ASS?"

For some reason, yelling was apparently the only way to get John to respond when he was overly focused on something, which happened a lot. John straightened and turned towards the door and the quick frown Karkat had skillfully placed on his face, grinning the same helplessly charismatic grin he had shown to him nearly 11 years ago.

"Yo! Wanna hang out today?" John's voice had changed over the years, as was natural of the human race's age process. It was now deeper, and had acquired a quality that matured his voice and had made him a quick target for all the girls at school despite the teeth (which Karkat had never before considered to be a flaw, but apparently others thought so), but it had retained much of his boyhood's childish overtones that now made Karkat's skin itch in a hot, uncomfortable way.

"I am not going to play cops and robbers again, we played that yesterday. You stupid asshole." he added the insult as an after thought. It was getting harder and harder to remember to cuss John out. It just didn't come out as naturally as it used to when he hadn't had any friends and was always on the defensive. Not that having John as a friend made him any less defensive. John was just different.

John chuckled, a pleasant change from his childhood giggles, and peered down his nose at him. Yes. John was taller than him now. Not that the 5 and a half inches meant anything. Karkat could still kick his ass if he put his mind to it. Probably.

"Naw, you got all mad when I kept catching you." Karkat flushed a little, he hadn't exactly been "mad" when John had tackled him to the ground, both of them sweating and panting after he had chased Karkat (the robber) from his hiding spot through the forest for an hour and a half. John had of course been the hero cop, and that they were still playing such a childish game at 17 didn't seem to cross either of their minds. John didn't notice Karkat's slight change of color and continued rambling, subconsciously performing the small movements that gave him the illusion of vibrating. The shifting of feet, the swaying, fidgeting of his hands, everything that made him seem so _alive_ and full of energy. Karkat watched distractedly and nearly missed John's next words.

"-got gravel in my shoes too! No, I wanted to go to that fair that's in town this week, and heck, it's Monday, so it shouldn't be that crowded. I hear they've got this ride that takes you so high in the air that you can see the next state over! And they've got cotton candy and roasted apples-" Karkat zoned out the rest of John's words absent-mindedly. The fair? What fair? Here? When had _that_ happened? More importantly, why would he want to take Karkat, who never went out farther than the high school which was conveniently less than 5 miles away from his home, and frequently conveyed his dislike of crowds and being around people? Something was up, but Karkat couldn't figure out what it was.

"You want me to go to a fucking _fair_? Hell no." Karkat interrupted John's continuous monologue with a cheap plastered frown on his pale pink lips. John grinned mischievously.

"Hell _yes_. You're going even if I have to drag you there, buddy." John began to reach forward but wasn't quite fast enough. Karkat slammed the door shut and expertly turned the lock. He turned and started the climb back up the stairs slowly. It was all for show of course, this had become a sort of ritual that had developed between them for whenever John wanted to take Karkat anywhere farther than the forest behind their houses. This routine was usually the most entertaining aspect of their day anyway, but Karkat couldn't figure out why John purposefully pushed the buttons that would make him instinctively respond with a door to his face. In a way, it was slightly irritating. They both knew that in this scenario Karkat would eventually end up going, no matter how much he hated crowds or the human race in general. If Karkat had _really_ intended on not going, he would have kicked John in his sensitive regions, ordered him off his property, _then_ slammed the door and left John crumpled on his door step clutching his man parts.

Half-way up the stairs, he turned and got back to the door right as the simultaneous banging and doorbell ringing began once more. The addition of banging on his door had developed with John's newly acquired height.

Karkat snapped open the door, fully prepared for the puppy eyes, and quickly stacked up some half-assed insults to deflect them with. It is an extreme understatement to say that he was surprised when he was body slammed to the thankfully soft Persian rug rolled out in his house's front entry way. The softness did not stop the air from exploding out of his lungs any less painfully though.

Karkat wheezed, his eyes nearly popping from their sockets and his back throbbing in pain. He weakly squirmed underneath John's heavy 17 year-old frame and quickly realized that his arms were locked to his sides by John's firm knees. Track and field had definitely given John an unfair advantage. So much for probably being able to kick his ass.

"WHAT-THE-FUCK?" Karkat managed to get out before John sat down on his abdomen, _hard_, causing all of the air he had managed to gather to whoosh out again. John smirked and held up a pointer finger and raised thumb to Karkat's forehead.

"You're coming with me elusive criminal! There's no escaping the law when it's got you under lock and key!" John bent his thumb, flicking back his wrist and yelling, "BANG!" before laughing maniacally. Karkat squirmed some more, sure that this time he'd be able to break John's hold. This had a sense of de-ja-vu to it, as if this had happened before, and John's close proximity added to their positions was making the itchy tingles crawl up Karkat's back. Karkat quickly improvised and took in a huge breath before letting all hell break loose.

"OH MY MOTHER-FUCKING, PUS DRIPPING GOG OF MALFUNCTIONING PISS POTS. YOU GET THE FUCK OFF ME BEFORE I WILL BE FORCED TO SKIN YOU WITH YOUR OWN STUPID FUCKING BUCK TEETH AND SELL YOUR HIDE TO A SWEATY OLD HAG WHO FUCKS RABID DOGS FOR MONEY!" Karkat's face went completely red with what he hoped John assumed was anger. John ignored the crude comment skillfully. The color of Karkat's face brought John's attention to the matching color of Karkat's little red candy corn horns that he still wore on his head, having refused to get rid of the adorable things some years before. Feeling his own sense of nostalgia, John leaned forward a little to stroke the tip of one of the horns.

"These have always been so cool. I don't know how you managed to let the teachers at school let you wear them to class." John slowly circled the top with the tip of his finger, an entranced look he always got on his face when mesmerized by Karkat's clay horns. He bent down closer to better admire the craftsmanship of Karkat's apparel.

This all of a sudden became way too much for Karkat. The itching and tingling were starting to throb and boil and rush down to pool in the pit of his stomach and between his legs. The combined entranced look on John's face added to the meticulous stroking John was performing was NOT helping the uncomfortable fizzy feeling that was clouding his mind.

Panicked and caught off guard by this onslaught of unfamiliar emotion, Karkat threw all of his weight into his legs and back and bucked, throwing John into a tight roll over his head and on to the rest of the rug behind him. Karkat sat up quickly, trying to compose himself in some way as John landed in a familiar heap out of sight behind him. He stood and brushed himself off before fleeing up the stairs as fast as he was capable. He took a second to stop at the top of the stairs and turn to yell, "DON'T YOU DARE COME UPSTAIRS FUCKASS. I'M GOING TO GO TO YOUR STUPID GAY-ASS FAIR SHIT. JUST HOLD STILL AND KEEP YOUR BULGE IN YOUR PANTS WHILE I GET READY. DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH _ANYTHING_!" Karkat retreated to his room and slammed the door shut, simultaneously smacking his forehead at the awkward way he had made sure John wouldn't follow him upstairs in concern.

As John pulled himself together on the floor, he half-listened to Karkat's half-ass excuse. Of course he was going, he had told him he was. John huffed and rolled to his feet, rubbing his head and looking around, purposefully not dwelling on the fleeting emotion that had formed when he had unintentionally brushed a few stray locks of Karkat's shaggy black hair with his knuckles and when he'd caught sight of Karkat's flushed face disappear up the stairs. Closing the front door subconsciously, John glanced towards the living room where something potentially valuable caught his eye.

Karkat was in the middle of shucking his comfortable sweat pants when he heard the inevitable crash from downstairs. He sighed and brushed his hair back with his fingers. For an entirely different reason, he looked down, groaned, and muttered a nearly inaudible "Oh shit..." as his pants fell to the ground.

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><p>HOHOHO! There was a hell of a lot more to this than what I have right here, but I didn't realize it was soooo long! .<p>

I figured this was a good enough stopping point for a beginning chapter, and I'll have the second out later this week I suppose. Maybe. No promises though. I've got some fucked up things happening right now which is why it took me so long to update PB. I already have the second chap of this written, so it won't be hard to get it out, I'll just have to make time to do it.

I hope you all will enjoy this sequel to PB, and it's romantic comedy-like qualities, I put a lot of work into it. I realize the extreme OOC-ness of the characters, it's just the way they came out when I was laboring over this. I love them already, and since it's a FAN FICTION, which basically means I can do whatever the hell I want, **_I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT_** with poor Hussie's creations. Bwahahahaha.

Thanks for reading ^-^


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